


In Dreams

by coverofnight



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 05:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15879678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coverofnight/pseuds/coverofnight
Summary: Joan has visions of her early days with Vera.





	In Dreams

She comes to me in dreams. As I lie here in the darkness of my cell listening to the wails of life’s misfortunes echo around me, my Vera comes to me.

In a vision, she waits at the foot of my bed, her arms folded across her chest, and regards me as if I’ve turned her world inside out. She doesn’t seem to know that all I’ve ever tried to do was bring her true self into fuller, clearer view. 

My Vera, the one of years past, still parts her hair to the side in a soft updo. Her eyes grow wide with wonder at my confidence and her lips still smirk at my cleverness. The Vera of my dreams has an innocence about her that I still ache to mold, corrupt, eradicate.

In a stupor that comes just before sleep, I see us as we once were: walking in complete harmony through the halls of the prison. Back then, she’d look up at me and I’d feel it in my bones that my duty was to guide her. I took that part of the job seriously and I hoped, and still hope now, that she could sense it. 

I remember an afternoon, in the earlier part of my tenure here at Wentworth, when I’d asked her to my office for an unusual assignment. I can still hear the words leave my mouth. 

“Ms. Bennett, I’d like you to make a list of any work-related questions you have for me. We can discuss them during our next debrief.”

Our weekly debriefs were a treasured part of my routine. Each week, I’d find something new to bring to the table. New questions, new answers. New drinks, new revelations. 

And yet, nothing surprised me quite like that debrief where Vera held all the power.

She came armed with a clipboard and an hour’s worth of questions. I can still feel myself leaning into her, hanging on her every word. She stammered all the usual questions out. 

_ What are your methods for effective delegation? How do you best maintain composure in dangerous situations? If a male colleague of lesser status undermines your authority, how do you prefer to handle the situation? _

Her nerves were clear on her face. Her brow brimmed with sweat and her bottom lip quivered in what I presumed to be fear. And then she dropped the most unexpected question in my lap. 

“What’s something no one knows about you?” she said point blankly.

The question didn’t seem to be on her list and in the moment just before she’d asked it, her blues eyes looked deep into me, as if they were really seeing me for the first time. It was my turn to stammer, to sweat, to quiver. Because in all my time on this earth, no one--save for perhaps Jianna--had dared me to expose the depth of my being. 

It was then I knew that Vera was more than a small heap of energy driven by ambition and work ethic. She was mine for the taking, a valuable ally in a world that had, in so many ways, discarded us both. 

I recall staring at her, examining her for some time before finding the courage to answer. 

“Working in corrections satiates my hunger for many things: power, purpose, order. Companionship. I wake up and ache to be here...with you and the rest of our staff. I belong here. As do you,” I told her. 

With that, her lips pressed into a smile and I knew I’d said the right thing. 

Just as sleep passes its heavy hand over my body, my sweet vision of Vera fades. In the morning, I’ll wake to the colder, harder, more distant Vera; the one who thinks she’s parted ways with me completely and left my influence buried deep in her mother’s grave.

But it is here, just an arm’s length away from her, that I rest. And in due time, I shall rise. 

 

 


End file.
